


a blow to the heart

by sansrival



Series: "go ahead," she said. "take it." [2]
Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, feat. flashbacks and intermittent boinking, past chuuves and a touch of present lipsoul, rivals/lovers, you know..for that sprinkle of angst, yvesoul said be gay do crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 05:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansrival/pseuds/sansrival
Summary: In trying to love people the way she loves ink and colours on a handscroll, Sooyoung learns over time and across borders that perhaps, they're one and the same.(Sooyoung steals paintings and gets her heart stolen in the process.)





	a blow to the heart

**Author's Note:**

> a sooyoung-centric spinoff/sequel to [the error of your ways](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158133) where yvesoul are rival art thieves. i liked the idea too much so i expanded on the story. who asked…nobody! but i do what i want! 
> 
> again, inspired by a gq article on art theft. heavily based on the story of the infamous stephane breitwieser (the chuuves, especially, is inspired by breitwieser & anne-catherine kleinklaus. the bonnie to his clyde) 
> 
> an eternal thank you to sujiverse for beta reading ♡‿♡
> 
> so sorry for how long this turned out but i hope you make it to the end!

_France_

The two thieves were nearly invisible in the darkness of the gallery, illuminated by nothing but the moon beyond the skylight and the startlingly bright emergency lights above them.

“That doesn’t look convincing at all,” Sooyoung murmured. 

The replica hung on the wall perfectly, not crooked nor off to the side, but occupying the space of the original as if it was the original itself.

Truthfully, it was a very good copy. To the regular eye, there wasn’t any difference. It was what it was: robed eighteenth century commoners building a home, the ordinary labours of their everyday lives depicted with ink on paper.

However, Sooyoung had spent hours totaling days looking at Kim Hongdo’s work over the years, studying his genre paintings with a meticulous, enamoured eye. She was familiar with his style, the way he drew his lines and used his colours, the careful detail on his figures, how he positioned them in the composition to create liveliness even in the most mundane of scenes. 

She was well-acquainted, so to her pedantic eyes, the copy on the wall just didn't cut it. Not at all.

Jinsoul, though, gave her an indifferent shrug. “I’m a thief, not an expert. It’s what they gave me,” she said defensively.

_Obviously. Anyone can tell._

Jinsoul’s new hair was a striking blonde, gleaming under the light. Coming from a thief, it seemed like an inconvenience. Coming from an admirer, it was absolutely enticing.

Sooyoung considered herself more of an admirer than a thief.

“I like it,” was what Jinsoul said when Sooyoung commented on her new look.

Sooyoung’s lips pulled up in a smile. Jinsoul was gorgeous no matter her hair colour. 

Her eyes fell on the small case at the blonde’s side. She knew the authentic Kim Hongdo work was in there and tried not to think about the damage Jinsoul might’ve accidentally inflicted when she stuffed it into her case. Sooyoung held back from wincing, keeping her composure steady.

“The painting’s in your hands, but we both know that when we go our separate ways, it’ll be with me,” Sooyoung told her, eyes carefully trained on Jinsoul’s. She had quite a penetrating gaze, but it was nothing Sooyoung couldn’t mirror.

The thing with Jinsoul was that she wasn’t one to yield either, always matching Sooyoung in pace. That was what Sooyoung liked about her; she knew when to push and pull, when to dangle temptation in front of Sooyoung and when to snatch it back. It kept Sooyoung on her toes, adding just another layer of thrill to what they were already doing.

They might've been there together, but Sooyoung certainly didn't work for whoever Jinsoul did. Civil as they were, there existed a heated undercurrent that spurred a tension between them.

“Can’t nab a piece of artwork on your own, yet here you are with that smirk on your face. Have you no shame?” Jinsoul taunted.

Sooyoung inched closer. It was her derisive chuckle that stole Jinsoul’s gaze, dropping at once from her eyes to her lips.

_Got you._

Trailing her fingers down Jinsoul’s arms, Sooyoung knew she left goosebumps even beneath the sleeve of Jinsoul’s black hoodie.

Jinsoul still hadn't let go of the case by the time Sooyoung’s hand reached it.

And so Sooyoung got close to her ear, exposed by her sliding hood, closer until she was nearly touching.

(Jinsoul’s blonde was as intoxicating in scent as it was in sight.)

“Not my fault you can’t get enough of me,” Sooyoung murmured and that was when Jinsoul loosened her grip, letting the case slip into Sooyoung’s fingers instead.

 _Finally_.

The artwork was in her hands.

She pulled away, but Jinsoul acted fast, grabbing her sleeve and muttering a rough, worked up _‘come with me’_ beneath her breath.

How could Sooyoung have possibly declined such an invite?

She got what she wanted, but she couldn't get it for free. That was the paradox of thieving. 

/

_Switzerland_

The painting fit right into her collection.

Sooyoung had quite a selection of Kim Hongdo works, him being one of her favourite Joseon era artists and all. His works – all authentic – adorned the niche by her bookcase with scenes of the day-to-day lives of her ancestors hanging from floor to ceiling.

She sipped on her coffee as she gazed at the new addition. How the artist managed to add life to the most pedestrian subject matter never failed to take Sooyoung’s breath away, filling her with immense bliss. Coupled with the memory of Jinsoul’s hands around her wrists, grip as rugged as the impatient kisses she littered across her skin, Sooyoung let out a content sigh. Her heart pounded.

_This is the life._

She ambled over to the window, gently dancing over some dragon-adorned flasks from the Ming dynasty (pocketed from an art fair in Amsterdam), feet narrowly avoiding the teal Guan ware vase by her dresser (this one nabbed from an open-invite auction in Brussels).

Sooyoung stuck her head out of the window, inhaling the Swiss air.

Surrounded by her prized collection, her small flat nestled deep within the snow-covered Alps was more of a home to her than any house she grew up in back in Korea.

/

_Sooyoung always thought her bed was far too big for her._

_Everything was way bigger than necessary; her bed, her room, her house, her dreams, her parents’ salaries, her parents’ expectations, her parents’ ambitions for her._

_So big, it was suffocating. The irony._

_Sooyoung couldn’t wait to get out. The privilege of being born to such filthy rich, reputation-obsessed parents came with her being shipped overseas the second she graduated high school. For her own good, they said, and bigger opportunities too. But Sooyoung knew she was being shaped into a showpiece. That was just the reality in_ _her family’s world._

_Life was a constant competition, you see, and a kid who earned a foreign doctorate was just as much of a bragging right for a mother in their insular community as her carefully polished fine china collection._

_How exhausting. Everything felt so artificial._

_To Sooyoung, there was no realer freedom than the smell of Swiss air the second she exited Zurich airport. Free from her superficial lifestyle and her materialistic parents, free from their negligence and judgmental eyes, free from the reins that held her back._ _Here, she could finally pursue her love for art._

_Ever since she was a kid, it was the only thing that captured her heart as her only source of sincerity._

_Sooyoung switched into an art history program at her university without telling her parents._

_She was no gifted artist, just a girl drawn to beautiful images and objects, and only those that give her a hit of coup de coeur – a blow to the heart._

_On the surface, maybe she was like her materialistic parents. Except her love stemmed from within, no stimulus aside from how fast it made her heart beat at first glance._

_She loved art for herself, not to please or impress others._ _And it made her feel something more genuine than anything she had ever felt for her parents._

/

_Germany_

Jinsoul fiddled with the small box in her hands, ogling at the figures on the ivory paneling decorating the side.

“Sexy,” she uttered thoughtlessly between bated breaths.

“Crude, Jinsoul...”

“Give me a break, my mind’s still a little hazy.”

What’s ‘sexy’ to Jinsoul was ‘absolutely breathtaking' to Sooyoung. Sensuous maidens carved in ivory, the sheer fabrics draped over their plump limbs and flashy jewelry hanging off their thick necks flaunting a blue blood life. They were in pairs, hands joined and bodies curled around each other in an intimate show of fertility and desire beneath the ornate arches of a palace.

How fitting, considering her and Jinsoul were lying in bed, just as entangled and cozy as the lovers depicted in the eighteenth century Indian carving.

(Sooyoung’s nab from a local museum, vied for passionately by Jinsoul, who had arrived a few seconds too late. Poor her.

Fortunately for Jinsoul, Sooyoung had always told her she was open for negotiation. In private quarters, obviously. 

Unfortunately for Jinsoul, that was a lie – what Sooyoung found first was always hers to keep, no matter how loud Jinsoul made her moan.)

They were far from being wealthy court maidens in holy embrace at a palace courtyard, but to Sooyoung, Jinsoul might as well be just as divine.

“Hazy? Lost a few braincells when you hit the headboard?” Sooyoung quipped. 

A scoff in reply from the blonde. “Oh, fuck you.”

“You just did.”

Sooyoung leaned over to give Jinsoul a smiling kiss as she took the box out of her hands. Placing it carefully on the bedside table, she took another glance at the carving.

_God, how heart-stirring of a piece._

She let out a soft sigh. “You should at least wash your hands before handling fine art.”

Jinsoul faced Sooyoung and gently cupped her jaw. At her touch, Sooyoung’s eyes couldn't help but flutter close.

“I did, love," Jinsoul hummed, "I made sure my fingers were clean before I put ‘em in you.”

Sooyoung promptly opened her eyes just to roll them, ignoring the warmth blossoming on her cheeks. “ _Crude,_ Jinsoul.”

There was a sweeter way Jinsoul could've shared that sentiment, but the woman's tongue was unpolished and rough, contrary to the beauty of everything else about her. Jung Jinsoul always struck her as a curious diamond in the rough, with a clumsy personality that betrayed the genteel appearance her parents would've fallen in love with. Sooyoung was enthralled, to say the least. 

The woman of her dreams gave her a teasing smile. “You know, you always seem to mind my crude language after, but never during. What’s up with that?”

Jinsoul run a thumb across her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Sooyoung let her linger there for a bit before taking the hand and planting a kiss on the pale knuckles. And then she rose from the bed, the sheets clutched to her chest.

“I guess when you’re out of breath and panting my name, every sentence that comes out of your mouth, even the dirtiest of words, sounds so sweet,” Sooyoung answered, searching for her discarded clothing from the mess on the floor.

Behind her, Jinsoul laughed lightly. It was pure honey to her ears. 

Sooyoung grabbed the box from the side table. “I hate to be leaving while you’re awake, but I have a train to catch.”

When she turned around, she found Jinsoul propped up on her elbows and eyeing the box in Sooyoung’s hand, her pretty features twisted in offence.

“You’re taking it? Are you serious? Come on, Sooyoung.”

Sooyoung shook her head. Everything below her head begged her to stay and extend her time with Jinsoul, but Sooyoung knew she must go if she wanted to keep the box for herself.

“Sorry, love. Better luck next time,” Sooyoung told her with a small smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you. _Tschüss.”_

She leaned in and gave Jinsoul a soft kiss on the forehead before slipping out of their Dresden hotel room, ivory container and its seductive, opulent maidens in tow.

Sooyoung didn't let herself dwell too long on the look of disappointment on Jinsoul’s face, opting to think about how perfect the box would fit into her collection instead. She had never stolen a work hailing from India before. It was exciting. She even made space for it, right beside the golden sixth century crown sitting atop her old art history textbooks.

The books were always dusty, but never the crown. Sooyoung couldn't wait to see it with the box.

/

_Sooyoung never intended to be a thief._

_She became one out of impulse, driven by temptation. Perhaps that was a better way to describe it._

_The first time she took something without asking was was she took herself to a nearby Swiss village, dropping by a local art fair and desperate to rid herself of anxiety and stress over piling essays and looming finals._

_It took her breath away as fast as it caught her eye: an elaborate golden headdress, glossy jadeite embellishing the branches of the crown like green apples on a tree._

_Needless to say, she was overcome with a blow to the heart. Suddenly, her fingers itched to reach for it._ _Sooyoung overheard the dealer tell a group of elderly admirers that it hailed from the Three Kingdoms period and was found in the tomb of a Goguryeo monarch._

_(What was an ancient Korean burial artifact doing in the hands of a white-haired European man? Better off in her care, Sooyoung thought.)_

_In the absence of suspicious eyes, Sooyoung took the beautiful crown. Swift in her movements but mindful in her care, she slipped it into her bag without anyone noticing and slipped away just as quietly, heart pounding in exhilaration._

_She planted the crown on top of a stack of books on her desk. It glistened every time sunlight hit it right._

_Whenever she was nose deep in her studies, glancing over at the crown filled Sooyoung with more energy and motivation to concentrate than any hit of Adderall could ever give her._

_Since then, she continued to steal. Never from big museums, just small ones at towns all over Switzerland and neighbouring countries, at galleries and art fairs, even from auction houses._

_Stealing, itself, was an art._

_First, one must work with deft hands, always swift and neat, never leaving a trace and staying extremely mindful of the surroundings. It was all about the timing. Sooyoung's movements mirrored that of an artist skillfully working through a portrait, hands akin to a sculptor working with clay, gentle even in its calloused roughness._

_Second, Sooyoung only took what captured her heart and stirred her soul. She only took what she could imagine waking up to and could fill her with immense bliss with just a single glance._

_That was what made her different from her folks. She had no regard for their price tags nor worth on the market. She judged purely by their value in her eyes, for which there was no criteria aside from what emotions she felt when she looked at it._

_Over her university years, Sooyoung amassed an impressive collection of pilfered artwork. Everything was displayed in her modest loft apartment serving as a single-person dorm, remarkably private._

_They served an audience of one – just Sooyoung, and not another soul._

_/_

_France_

They were in a small rural town, its name too unusual for Sooyoung to even try to pronounce, with old-fashioned buildings that looked like they came straight out of an American brochure on European villages.

Despite that, the collection at the local gallery was spectacular, with pieces ranging from South America to East Asia, varying time periods. It was a strange and eclectic mix, probably mismatched to the eyes of a snobby connoisseur, but a complete wonder to Sooyoung.

She wasn't too surprised to spot a familiar face in the gallery.

Jinsoul’s blonde may have helped her better blend in with the European crowd, but Sooyoung could find her from across the room.

(How could you miss a woman like her? Before Jinsoul, Sooyoung had only met one other girl in Europe captivating enough to steal her attention like this.)

“Evening, Jinsoul,” Sooyoung sung, waltzing to her side. 

Jinsoul stood in front of a still-life painting, pretending to admire it. If she was surprised to see Sooyoung, she didn't show it, instead greeting her with that lazy grin of hers that Sooyoung loved so much.

“You’re here too, huh? Funny…this place is a bit off-the grid,” Jinsoul whispered, “I didn’t even tip you off on this job.”

Sooyoung shrugged. “Maybe it’s fate.”

The woman beside her snickered.

Despite the town’s seeming insignificance, the gallery’s impressive collection merited a relatively known art fair annually attended by connoisseurs and locals alike from surrounding cities. Sooyoung figured Jinsoul would show up, but she kept that to herself.

“Do you ever wonder how often we’ve passed by each other and never knew?”

“Often,” Jinsoul smoothly replied, “I think about you all the time.”

Sooyoung let out a muffled, amused snort. “Charming,” she said, lips quirking up into a smile, “now what’s so important here that you didn’t even bother letting me know…?”

As much as Sooyoung would've liked to believe that her and Jinsoul’s meet-ups were purely coincidental – maybe even _destiny_ at work – the world was just far too big for that. Instead, their occasional rendezvous was more of a roundabout business arrangement. 

Sooyoung getting a text from Jinsoul vaguely cluing her in on her next job, along with a photo of the artwork she had been hired to take...

Sooyoung having to figure out where in the world that artwork was and to show up if she had her eye on the same artwork...

She always felt that all the extra steps were so unnecessary when Jinsoul could simply tell her the exact time and location. Or even simpler: _I just want to see you again_ , or something along those lines.

But to Jinsoul, this was all just a game. It always had been.

Most of the time, Sooyoung was never interested in whatever Jinsoul was tasked with taking. She’d go and vie for it anyway, just for a chance to spend a night with Jinsoul. But sometimes, rarity would strike and Jinsoul would send her a work of art that would have Sooyoung thinking of only one thing: _I got to have that for myself._

Over several months, she got quite good at this illicit scavenger art hunt that took her all around the world, chasing an artwork if not a woman. (They were one and the same, eventually.)

“Sorry, this one’s kind of important…I couldn’t let you take it from me.” Jinsoul kept her intent gaze at the still-life hanging in front of them, swirling the glass she gingerly held in her hands. “Three frames over, the really dark one with the woman driving a sword into the dude's bare chest.”

Sooyoung shifted her eyes over to the piece Jinsoul was talking about.

There hung a Baroque painting from the seventeenth century, if its dramatic subject matter said anything; a man dying in the hands of a woman, their forms jumping out of the blackness as raking light illuminated them from a window somewhere. It was melodramatic, clearly meant to stir the emotions of whoever was viewing the painting.

“Intense,” was all Sooyoung murmured.

“Right? It’s kind of badass,” Jinsoul hummed, “so…are you interested too?”

Sooyoung wasn’t. She came here for a delicate Japanese teabowl, and that was already sitting pretty inside her bag, having found the opportunity to seize it within minutes of entering the gallery.

But she wouldn't have a reason to spend a night with Jinsoul if she didn't feign temptation towards the Baroque painting.

(It was a beautiful piece, sure, but no blow to Sooyoung’s heart. She found a more immediate attachment to Asian art, for obvious reasons.)

“Of course I am. It’s one of the best pieces here,” Sooyoung answered anyway, “a bit ambitious, though, don’t you think? Looks to be about...hmm, a little over half a metre in height? And there’s too many people around. You really think you can take it?”

“Well, Jungeun did say it was going to be a challenge. But you like challenges, don’t you, Sooyoung?”

Sooyoung turned and met Jinsoul’s provoking gaze behind her lidded eyes, the edge of her cup at her lips. Her tongue darted out from behind her teeth, touching the glass before taking a tantalizingly slow sip.

Sooyoung swallowed. Jinsoul was such a tease sometimes, alluring in the most inappropriate of times. But that was just another aspect of their liaisons that made Sooyoung’s heart jolt.

Jinsoul sidestepped around her and disappeared into the crowd, gone as if she was never there.

Funny enough, Sooyoung knew _exactly_ when Jinsoul was going to take the painting. She was an unpredictable lover, but often a terribly predictable thief.

(It takes one to know one.)

So when much of the crowd made their way outside for some air, snacks, and chatter, Sooyoung made her way back to the wing of the gallery where the painting hung. Sure enough, Jinsoul was there, hovering by an elderly couple too deep in conversation to notice the pretty young blonde watching them.

A straggler left the room and Jinsoul, whose eyes had been trailing him, met Sooyoung’s gaze by the door.

There was hesitation in her eyes and Sooyoung could tell she was worrying about the elderly couple still lingering in the room and standing too close to the Baroque work.

 _Coward,_ Sooyoung mused, _t_ _hey’re too busy talking to notice anything. Just take the painting and go._

But Jinsoul remained rooted to her spot, choosing instead to teeter back and forth on the balls of her feet like a child. _This won't do._

With a sigh, Sooyoung finished the rest of her macaron and drifted over to the elderly couple, gracefully purposeful in her steps. She casually slipped into their conversation with effortless French and drew them towards the opposite side of the room, engaging them in some discourse over an abstract Léger piece that hung between two portraits.

(She racked her head for ways to bullshit the discussion, doing the mental gymnastics to remember whatever she could from the few European modern art classes she took in university.)

A brief glance over the elderly man’s shoulder and she found Jinsoul raising an eyebrow at her.

The next time she glanced over his shoulder, the Baroque painting was gone from the wall and Jinsoul was nowhere to be seen.

“Didn’t need your help, you know…”

Jinsoul’s words were a little bit slurred, but there was no sloppiness to the way her hand roamed over Sooyoung’s thigh beneath the table. Bold of her, but Sooyoung let her do as she pleased. They had the privacy of a secluded booth, the distraction of the busy pub, and the coursing thrill of successfully stealing a massive Baroque painting. 

“Looks like you needed it,” Sooyoung said, smirking at the way Jinsoul’s eyes flittered constantly between her lips and her eyes. Her intentions were so glaringly transparent sometimes, it was almost amusing.

“I _didn’t_. I was just waiting for the right moment,” Jinsoul drawled, “before you so kindly swooped in to distract them…”

Sooyoung smiled. “I was just drawn by their discussion over cubism, that’s all. Or is it ambitious of me to assume you know _anything_ about art movements?”

“I do not give a single shit about art movements,” Jinsoul slurred absentmindedly, “but mmm, it’s so arousing when you patronise me.”

Sooyoung cocked her head. “And this is why you’ll never make it past friendly introductions in any conversation with a local even if you tried.”

“Maybe I can learn from you then. What name do you give ‘em? _Yves_?”

“That’s a male name, stupid…”

Jinsoul only hummed, fingers ghosting over Sooyoung’s skin, inching every bit closer to where they were used to being in. “Use that French tongue on me tonight and maybe I’ll let you have the painting.”

“Where is it, by the way?”

“In a tube. Inside pocket of my jacket. Had to discard the hideous frame.”

Sooyoung frowned at her answer, wincing at the thought of Jinsoul roughly slicing the Baroque painting out of its frame and rolling up the canvas, the paint cracking and falling off in flakes at her rough handling. Even if it wasn't up Sooyoung’s alley, art was art, and any damage to it hurt just as much as any. 

_You careless, thoughtless son of a bitch._ _Destroying art, just like that._

Jinsoul was too busy staring at her lips, probably lost in some fantasy inside that whimsical mind of hers, to notice the momentary twitch in Sooyoung’s features.

Maybe she could still save the painting. Win it back and anonymously return it to the gallery, or something. But truthfully, Sooyoung's priorities were a bit more blurred than that. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system, or the way Jinsoul touched her and looked at her.

“Have you thought up an excuse for Jungeun yet? For when you go back to her, like the little lapdog that you are, empty-handed.”

Jinsoul lifted a taunting eyebrow. “You’re feeling awfully confident today, aren’t you?”

“You know I only let you take the painting because I knew I could earn it from you,” Sooyoung teased, inching her face slightly closer to Jinsoul’s. 

(Even in a tipsy state, cheeks coloured with rose, the woman was electrifying.)

A chuckle played off Jinsoul’s lips. “We’ll see about that.”

/

_“You’re gonna bail at the last minute.”_

_“We’ll see about that.”_

_That was the last thing Jiwoo said to her before she shot her a wink and disappeared into the village museum. Sooyoung was left loitering on the steps, tasked with being the lookout._ _Jiwoo came out no longer than a few minutes later with one hand deep in her jacket pocket and the other tugging Sooyoung back to their rental car._

_Once they were seated inside, doors locked, Jiwoo pulled her hand out to show Sooyoung her greatest feat: a grave good from an ancient Chinese tomb in the form of beautiful azurite beads strung together in a bracelet._

_Sooyoung’s breath caught in her throat the second she saw it. Even in the dark, it gleamed._

_“I saw you staring at it when we visited last week. I knew you wanted it, but couldn’t find the right time to take it. It’s our last day in the village, so here,” Jiwoo said, placing the bracelet on Sooyoung’s palm with the gentlest care. “I told you I could nab something on my own. You doubted me!”_

_Sooyoung was too awed to say anything, opting to grin at Jiwoo instead as her lips stretched impossibly to her ears._

_“Happy six months,” Jiwoo told her softly, “well, I have more planned for our anniversary - and I mean activities that are not illegal - but I wanted to get this bracelet for you first.”_

_“You didn’t have to, Jiwoo. Really.”_

_Jiwoo chuckled. Sooyoung thought her smile should be in a museum. “I did it for you. I love you, you know?”_

_Sooyoung protectively closed her hand around the beads before leaning over to give Jiwoo a tender, lingering kiss._

_Sooyoung met Jiwoo during her third year. Same faculty, different departments. Considering the sparse population of Korean students in their faculty, Jiwoo naturally gravitated towards Sooyoung and clung on to her in search of familiarity in a foreign world._

_Sooyoung had always been sociable, but was careful not to befriend anyone too closely out of fear that her growing collection of stolen art would be discovered and stripped from her._

_But Jiwoo was a warm presence to be around and extremely persistent in her chase – it didn’t take Sooyoung very long to figure out that the younger girl was very much into her._

_Maybe it was the way Jiwoo always accommodated for her; or the way Jiwoo attentively listened to her talk about art with curious eyes; or the way Jiwoo would blush furiously at her flirtations, but always hit her back with something twice as charming; or the way Jiwoo tasted on her lips or melted at her touch, the way she’d gasp over Sooyoung’s dancing fingers._

_Maybe it was all of those that had Sooyoung’s heart jolting._

_Sooyoung had fallen in love, and it was a feeling so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. A blow to the heart, except not for an object nor a painting, but for a person._

_For Jiwoo._

/

_America_

The composition in front of her was utterly mesmerising.

Her eyes traveled up the high cliffs emerging out of the mist, imposing and powerful. Sooyoung was always amazed at Chinese painters’ ability to give their audience an almost spiritual experience through otherworldly depictions of the natural world. 

It was a beauty of a piece that reminded her of the painting she took from a German art fair years prior as Jiwoo looked over her shoulder with childish exhilaration in her eyes.

 _Jiwoo_. Sooyoung hadn’t seen her, much less thought about her, in a long time, yet the image of her still came up in her thoughts from time to time.

Her hands itched to take the landscape painting off the wall. But at nearly two metres in height, and right by the security desk, she knew the hanging scroll was far too risky of a theft. 

But it would've been a shame to leave the gallery empty-handed.

She rounded the exhibition once again and luckily, something much more achievable caught her eye. The collection of golden coins from the Zhou dynasty looked so polished atop the velvet covering that one could believe they were minted just yesterday.

_Those would look nice with the golden crown._

/

_It was a month into their relationship when Jiwoo became the first, and only, person Sooyoung decided to show her collection to._

_Unsurprisingly, Jiwoo was taken aback when Sooyoung had told her about her little illicit hobby, but it was a risk Sooyoung was willing to take. As her feelings for Jiwoo grew, so did her guilt over hiding such a big part of her life to her._

_She thought Jiwoo would turn away from her, call her an absolute maniac and wanting nothing to do with her thieving._

_But to her luck, Jiwoo had an inkling for defying the odds._

_She still remembered standing in front of the door to her apartment, heart beating impossibly fast. No one had ever been inside but her. Jiwoo reached over to hold her hand._

_“Don’t be nervous,” Jiwoo said, “you can trust me. I promise.”_

_And it was the certainty and reassurance in her eyes that helped Sooyoung open that door._

_Jiwoo was amazed – who wouldn’t be? Ornate jewelry and clay figures sat over dressers and tables, graceful ceramics and imperial incense burners strewn purposefully across the floor, walls adorned with hanging silk scrolls of waterfalls and mountains._

_It took Sooyoung’s breath away every time she walked in. B_ _y the look on Jiwoo’s face, it seemed to have robbed her of her breath too._

_“What do you think?” Sooyoung asked hesitantly, watching as Jiwoo slowly looked around the room, eyes wider than her ajar mouth._

_“It’s…beautiful. Wow,” Jiwoo answered, bending down to have a better look at the pale green bottle by the door (Goryeo dynasty, inlaid with black slip beneath the glaze, stolen from a museum in northern Italy). “You took all of these…?”_

_Sooyoung had to tame her smile. “Are you going to tell on me?”_

_“Of course not,” Jiwoo replied without hesitation._

_“Yeah, I did. Over the past two years or so.”_

_“…How’d you do it?”_

_“Quietly. Quickly.”_

_And then they were silent for a moment as Jiwoo admired the scroll on the closet door (Ming dynasty, ink and colour on paper, carefully taken from a gallery in Lucerne)._

_“Can you take me next time?”_

_Sooyoung froze, nearly breaking her neck at how fast she turned her head. “What?”_

_She found Jiwoo grinning at her. “I want to go with you, if it’s okay. I’ll be your lookout, or your getaway driver, or something.”_

_It was then Sooyoung knew that they were meant to be._

_She cracked a smile, heart about to beat right out of her chest._

_Sooyoung took Jiwoo to an art fair in Germany the next week._

/

Jinsoul beat her to the coins. Of course she did. She was a brilliant thief.

By the grace of some god, they both had their eyes on the exact same artifact. This was a genuine coincidence, as Jinsoul never messaged her about it. Sooyoung didn't even have an idea that the woman was in the same county as her, much less the same city. 

Sooyoung saw her walking away from the gallery, the fire alarm blaring from within - certainly a distraction Jinsoul set up to help her get away - and Sooyoung had an itching feeling that her precious coins were in the thermos Jinsoul was clutching. 

She caught up to the woman, snaking an arm around her waist and sliding a hand into her pocket.

“You know, the blonde is growing on me,” Sooyoung greeted nonchalantly, “you look pretty today. Like always.”

Jinsoul spun to face her. Much to Sooyoung’s amusement, her surprise melted into relief, and then into interest as her eyes wandered low. “So do you… Like always.”

They turned into a park. Sooyoung never really liked New York parks; she found the towering high-rises ruined the tree line like an unwelcome reminder that they were not really lost in nature. 

“You have something I want,” Sooyoung said, eyeing the thermos.

Jinsoul gave the bottle a shake like she was a bartender to confirm Sooyoung’s suspicions. She held back from flinching and prayed that whatever liquid was inside wasn’t damaging the coins.

“This? What a weird coincidence. Should’ve gotten there before me, you know the early bird gets the worm,” Jinsoul answered teasingly.

“I didn't know you were going in the middle of the day. Wanted to stop by for one last check and unexpectedly found a pretty blonde walking away from the crime scene," Sooyoung replied, "I lost out an easy one, didn’t I?”

Jinsoul hummed. “Calling yourself a thief at this point is an insult to me. Don’t you feel sorry?”

Sooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Doesn't it count if I steal from you?”

“But you don’t even steal it from me, I _give_ it to you.” Jinsoul’s touch lingered for a moment before she pulled out Sooyoung’s hand from her pocket. She turned to her with a mischievous smile, voice dangerously husky. “Seriously, you should be embarrassed of yourself…”

Jinsoul flipped the thermos. The clanging of the coins made Sooyoung visibly flinch this time, but Jinsoul’s darkened eyes stay locked with her gaze.

“What matters isn’t how it's obtained, love, it's who has it in the end,” Sooyoung retorted.

Jinsoul playfully lifted an eyebrow. “If you want what’s in here, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

Sooyoung returned her tease with a smirk, entangling their fingers together. Jinsoul was challenging her; Sooyoung liked challenges, especially if she knew the odds were in her favour.

“Won’t be very hard,” Sooyoung mused, restraining herself from getting any closer.

_Is it just me, or do you look more beautiful than usual today?_

The blonde chuckled, taunting and amused. “I’ll make you work hard for it.”

Jung Jinsoul, always a tease. In Sooyoung's eyes, that was what made her an exceptional lover.

/

_Jiwoo and Sooyoung were regular lovers._

_They went for brunch on weekend afternoons, studied together on weekday nights, and strolled out of art fairs and museums hand in hand with an artifact or two beneath their jackets. Very regular._

_Stealing was always thrilling for Sooyoung, but walking out of a museum with an exquisite stoneware vase tucked under one arm and Jiwoo hooked on the other made for a very special feeling._

_They may have been unconventional at first glance, but in the greater scheme of things, they were just like regular lovers._

_Akin to young newlyweds out hunting for the perfect addition to their new apartment, except it may be a twelfth century hanging scroll from dynastic China that healed the soul rather than a mirror from Ikea meant to fill an empty wall with reflections of their smiling faces._

_That was all they really are. Young women in love._

/

Jinsoul left a trail of kisses along her collarbone and Sooyoung considered she might be in love.

When she pulled back for a breath, Sooyoung took the opportunity to flip her on to her back.

She returned Jinsoul’s actions with equal fervour as the golden coins float into her thoughts. Sooyoung increased her pace, relishing in the way Jinsoul arched into her. She let herself drown in the expanse of skin that Jinsoul offered her; let herself be spurred on by Jinsoul’s curses and thoughtless confessions of her love.

_You say that, but do you really mean it?_

Sooyoung knew she was in love too. With what, though?

Well, that was much more of a loaded question than one might've expected. And it always had been, it seems.

/

_“Don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand?”_

_Sooyoung carefully rolled up a scroll while her girlfriend paced back and forth._

_(She only kept her hanging scrolls on display for brief periods of time, occasionally switching them out with previously stored paintings. The changes added variety to the space, she thought, and it was best not to expose the paintings for too long.)_

_“What do you mean?” Sooyoung asked absentmindedly, focused on the task at hand. She did not want to tear the painting._

_“I’m worried. You’re going to get caught one of these days.”_

_“I won’t.”_

_Jiwoo sighed, but Sooyoung missed it. “Sooyoung, I’m in my last year of university. I have a plan for myself. What are you going to do? What have_ _you been doing? Your parents think you’ve got an entirely different degree. They think you’ve been doing an internship with a company, but you work at a café.”_

_“Are you shaming baristas? Low blow,” Sooyoung replied in jest, tucking the scroll into a box as her tongue stuck out in concentration._

_“That’s not my point!” Jiwoo exclaimed, “I’m being serious! On the days you’re not making coffee, you’re out wherever stealing art. That’s all you do. I told you I don’t go with you anymore because I’m busy, but truth is, I’m_ scared _!”_

 _Jiwoo had stopped accompanying her a few months prior. It broke Sooyoung’s heart at first. Having grown used to having Jiwoo by her side, stealing without her just wasn’t the same._ _But eventually, all it took was a couple more solo trips before she started feeling fulfilled again. She traveled alone and stole without any qualms, finding ecstasy in art by herself, the same way she did before Jiwoo._

_They were drifting further apart. Sooyoung knew that._

_(But it was a thought that was kept in the very back of her mind, stored away like a handscroll. It wasn't good to expose it for too long.)_

_Sooyoung walked over to her shelf to put away the rolled painting. “You shouldn’t be scared. I’d never let you get caught, ever.”_

_Jiwoo let out a groan over Sooyoung’s ignorance. She stomped over and grabbed her arms, spinning her so they faced each other._

_"God, why can’t you just listen to me for once! You never pay attention to me anymore!"_

_What Sooyoung found gazing back at her were glassy eyes and lips bitten to still them from trembling. She blinked back, utterly taken aback by Jiwoo’s countenance._

_“You don’t seem to have any intentions of stopping any time soon, but I don’t know if I can do this any longer,” Jiwoo murmured. “After I graduate, I’m going back to Korea, with or without you. We can put an end to this European dream of yours – because that’s all this is, Sooyoung, it’s just some romantic dream_ _that we need to wake up from – and you can come back home with me and tell your family–“_

_“No. They’d disown me, Jiwoo, you know that. I’m self-sufficient and happy here.“_

_“Then you can be with me! I’m here for you,” Jiwoo interjected, tightening her desperate grip around Sooyoung’s arms, but Sooyoung couldn't bring herself to be affected by it, “you can come home with me…or you can stay here. Without me.”_

_An ultimatum. Sooyoung feared this._

_Expectedly, or perhaps unexpectedly to the romantic’s eye, Sooyoung’s love for art was far too great._

_She wasn’t ready to leave Europe and her collection of artwork behind, even at Jiwoo’s insistence._

_This was where she should be._

_But she had a feeling Jiwoo wouldn’t like that answer._

_“I’m sorry Jiwoo, but I don’t think I can leave... I can’t,” her voice lowered to a flustered whisper, “I-I don’t think I can do that for you. Do you have to go? You won’t stay? For me…?”_

_“I_ have _stayed for you, Sooyoung. I’m here now, aren’t I?! I’ve always been here. But what about my life? You won’t leave for me?”_

_Sooyoung’s hesitation was more telling of an answer than anything she could’ve said. She was never the best with words, but Jiwoo was the type that needed clear messages._

_She was also the type who could hide her feelings well, so Sooyoung didn’t expect the hurt on Jiwoo’s face to be so blatant._

_“…I can’t believe you,” Jiwoo suddenly mumbled. She shoved Sooyoung away as her lips tremble, eyebrows furrowing in the middle. “There's something wrong with you.”_

_Sooyoung blinked away the tears starting to pool at the edge of her eyes. “What…?”_

_“You have an obsession. I-it’s immature and it’s...it's ridiculous!” Jiwoo shouted, “you’re materialistic, that’s what you are. You’re just like your parents. You love objects more than people, all these stupid things and stupid paintings. When are you gonna grow up, Sooyoung!?”_

_Sooyoung opened her mouth, but her words caught at the back of her throat._

_Jiwoo heaved a deep breath before dropping her clenched fists to her sides. “You have no one here except for me…but you can’t even keep me. You can’t keep the only person who’s here for you," she spat with shut eyes, as if she couldn't bear to say what she needed to if she looked at Sooyoung. "I’ve had enough, Sooyoung. Find someone else willing to put up with your shit."_

_Their dire night ended with Jiwoo marching silently out of her apartment, a bag haphazardly stuffed with clothes and tears staining her cheeks._

_Sooyoung waited for her, searching for solace in the paintings that surrounded her._

_But Jiwoo never returned and Sooyoung didn't go looking for her._

/

“Sooyoung-ah,” she heard Jinsoul murmur into her ear, a breathless sort of whisper punctuated by blissful gasps, “is it me that you love or is it just those coins?”

It was such a strange and abrupt thing to ask, and Sooyoung certainly wasn’t in the right mind to even think about it. Gratefully, Jinsoul soon filled the silence again with her own strained voice, nails digging into Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Maybe Sooyoung had an answer to it, but all she could think about at the moment was satisfying Jinsoul.

(And maybe that was more telling of an answer than anything she could’ve said.)

/

_Jiwoo eventually left for Korea without Sooyoung._

_It was emptier without her around, but Sooyoung initially found comfort in her collection._

_Jiwoo wouldn’t return her messages nor her calls._

_And then the unthinkable happened. Over the next few months, the lustre of her collection faded. Sooyoung never knew this was possible, utterly taken aback by the lack of emotion she got from looking at things that used to fill her with so much indescribable feelings._

_Ironically, the loss of Jiwoo was much like a blow to the heart, albeit much worse than the type Sooyoung was familiar with. It was a punch so forceful that her heart nearly stopped beating._

_But what Sooyoung was doing was so much more than just a frivolous European dream. She just couldn’t find the words to tell Jiwoo that. She had always thought they were on the same page, and maybe they were at the start, but they had been on separate chapters during those last months. Perhaps she had it coming to her. Communication never really was their strong suit._

_She was in love with Jiwoo, but just as enamoured with art. Sooyoung couldn’t choose, and she didn't know if she ever could. Where was the line? It was all a blur to her, like what one would see if they looked too closely at a Monet painting; a diffused cloud of colours bleeding into one another. Failing vision, muddled world._

_Art reached an unfamiliar futility._

_Sooyoung stopped thieving, the thrill no longer enough to fill the vacancy._

/

“Golden coins on display were stolen from the Clark Gallery earlier this afternoon. Believed to have been taken during a false fire alarm, police investigations are under way as curators suspect a two-person job…”

“It was a one-person job,” Jinsoul quipped, snickering at the reporter on their hotel room TV. 

Sooyoung smiled.

“…the stolen objects are some of the earliest golden coins to be discovered, presumably used by the ancient Chinese state of Han. Valued at over…”

And then a frown made its way to her face.

“Wrong…the coins were issued by the Chu state and circulated there during the Warring States period,” Sooyoung replied impulsively, tone tinged with annoyance, “they could at least do their research properly if they care enough to report on it.”

A disappointed sigh escaped from her lips as she reached for the remote to turn the TV off, black promptly replacing the news scene. 

The authorities had caught on to Jinsoul’s theft quicker than Sooyoung had expected. They didn't usually notice anything that fast. Museum security guards paid more attention to people than to artworks, after all.

Sooyoung would've been lying if she said she wasn’t a tiny bit worried. She hid it, though, because Jinsoul didn't show a hint of concern. A dashing thief’s confidence, that one. 

The dashing thief let out that funny laugh of hers. “Did you just pull that out of your ass?” she asked incredulously.

Sooyoung turned to her. “Why would I make this up?”

“…You didn’t? Why do you know that? Or no…why do you _care_?”

Sooyoung's answer came out rather nonchalantly before she could even really think about it. 

“I have a degree in art history.”

Sooyoung didn't really know why she said that, revealing herself so blatantly, but really, she brought this upon herself. She just couldn’t resist correcting that stupid reporter on the TV.

Maybe it was the way Jinsoul was looking at her, or the way her pearly whites lit up the entire room, that spurred Sooyoung to let down her walls for just a moment and give Jinsoul a glimpse into her life.

They always had such fascinating pillow talks.

“Really?”

Jinsoul was genuinely surprised.

_Classic art thieves. Only in it for the money without a care in the world for the real value of the pieces they take._

“Economic value is real value,” Jinsoul tried to argue half-heartedly when Sooyoung called her out on it. 

Sooyoung sighed, telling Jinsoul about the likely fate of those golden coins if they left with her once this New York tryst of theirs was over: melted down and passed through the filthy hands of dealers as if it was any regular gold bar, nevermind the rich history behind it.

Sooyoung hated nothing more than destroyed art and lost value.

“You idiots see it as valuable, but for a whole different reason. Stealing is the easy part. Selling is the real task, unless the art can be turned into something else. There's zero regard for anything beyond its surface value," Sooyoung mused out loud, "shallow. Greedy. Selfish.”

The silence that fell over them was brief, thanks to Jinsoul’s sweet laughter. Sooyoung looked over and found her nearly melting into the sheets, smile poorly tamed and cheeks brushed with pink.

“Oh, you’re _serious_ ,” Jinsoul snickered and Sooyoung could tell she was getting some kind of kick out of this. “Why are you in this business then? You’re a thief too.”

Sooyoung paused, keeping her gaze towards Jinsoul steady.

She considered telling her the truth; how she stole for herself and herself only, how she didn't get any money out of it, how the emotional wallop she got from looking at art and owning it was more fulfilling and worthwhile than any bundle of bills. 

But Sooyoung couldn't bring herself to do it.

_(You’re just like your parents. You love objects more than people.)_

Jinsoul would never understand.

_(You have no one around you here except for me. But you can’t even keep me.)_

It was too risky. She could lose Jinsoul. She could lose this clandestine arrangement they had going on, which Sooyoung enjoyed more than she would've liked to admit. One she wanted to protect. 

It was a certain partnership they managed to build up over the time they knew each other – a healthy rivalry of sorts that didn't just fulfill Sooyoung’s desires, but also allowed her to keep the precious artworks they competed over out of the dirty hands of whoever Jinsoul worked for.

(After all, the villain was not Jinsoul herself, but her superiors. She was simply the vehicle doing the dirty work.)

But how could Jinsoul ever understand her true motivations? At this exact moment, at least.

So, Sooyoung lied. 

She told Jinsoul she was driven by a desire to reclaim art. Told her how she was commissioned by wealthy clients who wanted their artwork back after being pilfered by Europeans centuries ago, destroying cultures and interrupting histories, uninvited, before looting whatever pretty objects and paintings caught their eye and keeping it for themselves.

“…centuries later, they parade it around and put it on display like prizes they won at the fair,” Sooyoung explained, “it’s about time they go back to their rightful owners.”

It was decent enough of a cover. Valiant, too. 

Jinsoul scoffed. “So, what are you…like some art vigilante?” she joked.

Sure, it wasn't her real motivations, but there was some truth to it. It was a dream of hers once in university to be some sort of _art vigilante_ , but that was before Sooyoung realised that it was something far bigger than her. In reality, she was just a girl with an immense love for art.

And in a way, Sooyoung saw herself as a rightful owner, for she appreciated these works for what they were. Gave them the love and appreciation they deserved in the form of her attentive eye and steadily beating heart. These plundered works, in her eyes, were better off in her care, rather than in the hands of those who used them as gambling chips in ransoms or underground turf wars. 

(She was entitled, maybe, and still a thief at the end of the day. She was still a criminal breaking the law, driven entirely by temptation and some idea that maybe she was doing the right thing.)

Sooyoung only gave her a low hum and Jinsoul returned it, squirming beneath the blanket. She quirked an eyebrow. Glancing over, she found Jinsoul trying to tame a giggle by biting her lip.

“What are you thinking about? Do you find art history sexy?” Sooyoung sneered. Jinsoul was turned on. 

The blonde let out an incredibly soft sigh, a sound that betrayed the fire she was giving off. “Art thieves who actually know and care about art. That’s not something you hear about everyday.”

Sooyoung found herself smiling, too. “Does it make me more attractive?”

Jinsoul looked at her. It was a brief glance, but different from any way Jinsoul's gazed at her before. 

In the next second, the woman was lunging forward, meeting Sooyoung’s lips eagerly.

Jinsoul always kissed with such gusto, her lips always warm and soft, always knocking the air right out of Sooyoung’s lungs.

It was also her who broke apart first, only to run a warm breath against Sooyoung’s sullied lips. “Does that answer your question?”

Jinsoul ended up taking the golden coins with her just before the sun rose.

Sooyoung expected to wake up alone with nothing but a depression in the sheets beside her, but she did not expect Jinsoul to double-cross like this. She thought those coins belonged to her.

She stared at the note Jinsoul left for her. 

_‘The early bird gets the worm’_ in hasty, messy handwriting.

She scoffed, crumpling the note in her hands before collapsing back on the bed. “For fuck’s sake.”

/

_Switzerland_

Despite her initial irritation, Sooyoung’s anger over losing out the precious golden coins fizzled within a few weeks.

The empty spot on her shelf initially intended for the coins was later filled with ceramic figures Sooyoung nabbed from a gallery in Montreal.

Jinsoul swirled back into her memory as she positioned the figured on her shelf. Sooyoung could never really escape the woman, even if she had no clue where she was in the world. 

_I want to see her,_ she admitted to herself. She wasn't really angry with Jinsoul after all.

That was when she came to a startling thought that taking art and enjoying the sight of them wasn’t really the only reason she was still doing this. She thieved not just to add to her collection, but in hopes that maybe Jinsoul would be there too. And even if Jinsoul left first with the artwork in tow, leaving Sooyoung with nothing but memories and marks on her skin, the time they spent together never felt like a waste.

There was a certain high that she last felt when she was stealing with Jiwoo, and it was then that Sooyoung rehashed an old realisation: doing this was a lot more fun with someone you love.

Even if her and Jinsoul weren’t on the same side; even if Sooyoung’s sole goal was to ensure those works of art didn't end up in her hands; even if Jinsoul moaned out the wrong name sometimes during nights they spent together. 

Sooyoung felt the same, even with everything that begged to differ.

Jinsoul always returned to her. She always played fair, handing over artworks to Sooyoung when she felt she deserved it, despite knowing that she was putting her own job on the line (for a bit of fun, she claimed, but maybe she felt something for Sooyoung too).

And that was why Sooyoung considered that she might love Jinsoul with the same intensity that she loved ink and colours on a handscroll.

/

_It had been nearly a year since she last stole. A little more than that since Jiwoo left._

_Sooyoung never expected her life to ever feel this unremarkable._

_With nothing but barista work to her resume, she saved her earnings to pay the bills and used whatever was left over to visit museums and art fairs every couple of weeks, allowing herself that temporary feeling of respite and joy that she used to yearn so much._

_The urge to steal came to her every once in a while, but so did Jiwoo’s stinging words, still so seared into her memory._

_Falling from the top of the world, as Sooyoung had unfortunately learned, was an arduous and painful descent._

_Sooyoung was at a small, local museum somewhere in the Dutch backcountry when she spotted an Asian woman swiping a piece of artwork._

_It was an unusual sight and Sooyoung couldn’t believe her eyes at first, but she was sure of what she sees. A thief in front of her eyes._

_She got a glimpse of the woman’s face just as she was turning. She was beautiful, undoubtedly, and couldn't possibly have been much older nor younger than Sooyoung._

_It was the way she tucked the translucent vase into her jacket behind the guards’ backs, so casual and discreet, yet so calculated in her movements, that hit Sooyoung with a feeling she hadn't felt in ages._ _That peculiar blow to the heart._

_Sooyoung was so taken aback by the return of that old feeling that she froze, every muscle in her body paralysing as her eyes followed the woman._

_She watched her leave with graceful steps, weaving around oblivious folks and gliding over to the exit with the stolen vase beneath her arm. Sooyoung felt like she was watching her younger, spirited self._

_Thieving was like a performance. Sooyoung was always the one on stage, but being the audience for once and seeing it being executed so perfectly was one incredible feeling._

_There was another vase in the display nearly identical to its missing partner; porcelain fired in an imperial kiln, fifteenth century China, with a cobalt blue underglaze of hand-painted lotus flowers. It wa_ _s a beauty._

_Sooyoung reckoned the woman would return to nab this one too._

_Because if it was her, Sooyoung definitely would._

_Sooyoung extended her stay in the Netherlands and lingered in and around the museum, waiting for the woman to come back._

_Sure enough, Sooyoung’s intuition was correct. The woman returned. She_ _furtively watched her take the other vase, so swift and quiet that Sooyoung almost missed it._

_She followed the woman out the museum and stopped her, promptly pulling her into an empty side street with nothing but a bicycle and clothes dancing in the wind above them on a clothesline._

_The woman was too shocked to react properly, eyes going wide at the turn of events._

_Sooyoung couldn't help but remark how much prettier she was up close, swirling brown eyes matching the colour of her dark hair. She reminded Sooyoung of all the perfect daughters that littered her wealthy neighbourhood growing up. Except she dressed like a local, insignificant and blending in so well that no one would ever suspect her._

_“Hello,” Sooyoung took a gamble and greeted in Korean. The way the woman’s widened eyes slightly twitched told Sooyoung that she understood. “I saw you take the vase.”_

_“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman answered, voice slightly husky as she glanced at their surroundings, panicked._

_“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone as long as you tell me what you’re going to do with the vase.”_

_“None of your business,” she curtly answered._

_“I saw you yesterday too. If I had wanted you caught, I would’ve told the authorities already.”_

_“…What do you want?”_

_“For you tell me what you’re going to do with the vase.”_

_This, to Sooyoung, was more important than anything._

_The woman swallowed nervously, growing increasingly agitated. “It ends up in someone else’s hands, probably sold off or held for ransom. How would I know? I just do the taking.”_

_Sooyoung frowned. “That’s a shame.”_

_The woman in front of her suddenly sighed, exasperation showing in her impatience. “I’m in a hurry. Are you going to let me go? You’re gripping my arms like a lunatic–“_

_“I want it.”_

_The woman’s pretty features immediately twisted in confusion. “Excuse me?”_

_“The vases. Both of them.”_

_“Absolutely not.”_

_“I’m going to tell the police.”_

_“Really? You’re threatening me now? You tell the authorities and I’ll smash the vases.”_

_“Don’t,” Sooyoung interjected, fear flashing in her eyes. “Fine. How much?” she implored, ignoring the scoff she got in reply, “I’ll pay you twice as much. In cash.”_

_The woman’s countenance changed._

_Sooyoung bought her a cup of coffee before sliding the envelope of money she had withdrawn from an ATM across the table._

_It was half a year’s worth of rent, and Sooyoung already knew she was going to have to pick up extra shifts and find another job when she returned to Switzerland, but when she looked at the pair of vases inside the paper bag the woman gave her, Sooyoung didn't feel an inch of regret._

_Thinking about how it’ll adorn her desk and liven up her space, how it’ll bring back the colour her collection had lost along with Jiwoo, Sooyoung knew it was worth it. Her flat was where they belonged, not in some grimy dealer’s hands and certainly not smashed into pieces in some Dutch alleyway._

_“Pleasure doing business with you,” the woman said, eyeing her from behind her cup of coffee._

_Sooyoung left her with a charming wink, feeling more alive than ever._

_/_

_Canada_

Sooyoung was about to slip out of the gallery, ceramics in her briefcase, when she heard glass shatter and the security alarm going off.

Every limb went stiff as panic filled her.

_What the hell is going on?_

The security cameras were still off. She checked. Working alarms, but broken cameras - only at local art galleries could one find such priceless objects with such shitty security. 

Sooyoung made her way over to the source of commotion. When she saw the shattered glass by the window, her worry faded. She knew and she couldn't help the wide grin forming on her face because of it. 

Sooyoung turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. She had been waiting for a certain blonde to turn up. 

Jinsoul looked more frazzled than usual.

“Breaking the window? Really?” Sooyoung taunted, clear amusement on her face, “I could’ve let you in through the backdoor or something.”

Jinsoul’s wild eyes were set on the case at her side.

“The ceramics…” she muttered

(Sake ewers from sixteenth century Japan, the sides emblazoned with wisteria. Sooyoung fell in love at first sight the second Jinsoul sent her the photo, so much that she made sure to get here before Jinsoul would.)

Sooyoung smirked and despite the blaring alarm over their heads, she no longer felt an ounce of panic. Quite the opposite, really.

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper to toss at Jinsoul’s feet.

It was the note Jinsoul left for her in New York – _the early bird gets the worm_ – and Sooyoung had been carrying it with her at every theft, just in case she ran into Jinsoul.

The shocked blonde bent down for the piece of paper and it was during that moment of switched attention that Sooyoung slipped out of the room.

They wouldn't be spending the night, but Sooyoung had a feeling she’d see Jinsoul again.

After all, their lives always found a way to intersect.

/

_“Tell me how you’re such a sight for my sore, sore eyes?”_

_Sooyoung gave her a small smile in reply, flattered and unable to hold back at the charm being sent her way._

_She didn’t think she would see the woman again. Coincidence was a funny thing._

_They were back in Switzerland and she was still as pretty as ever. When Sooyoung had her pinned against an alley wall, a knee slotted between her legs and a firm grip on the tube tucked in her waistband, Sooyoung took a moment to appreciate human beauty for once._

_(Sooyoung thought she was the prettiest woman she’d seen in years. She wouldn’t mind pinning her down elsewhere, too.)_

_“You're putting me in a compromising position,” the woman muttered with an annoyingly unconcerned smile. “Can’t say I’d have it any other way though.”_

_Sooyoung tightened her grip around the tube sandwiched between their stomachs. “I want this.”_

_She didn’t get to the artwork in time; a Yuan dynasty painting imbued with nostalgia, lines of poetry filling negative space with the artist's reflections. It was a paragon of landscape masterpieces._

_The woman had quicker hands than her._ _And clearly, it filled her with unmatchable confidence._

 _“Is it_ really _the only thing you want?” the woman teased, “if you give me the same offer you did back in Holland, this beauty could be yours…” she paused, “the painting, I mean, not me.”_

_Her arrogance was as maddeningly attractive as it was irritating._

_(Sooyoung didn't even know her name, but the tension between them was a force begging to manifest into something real.)_

_“I don’t have any money,” Sooyoung answered honestly._

_The woman shrugged, and her nonchalance made Sooyoung clench her fists. “A loss for you, then.”_

_But Sooyoung refused to let up this easily. She knew that handscroll belonged to her, in her collection, for her love and care. She wanted it. Needed it, even._

_“I’ll do anything to get it out of your hands.”_

_“Yeah?” the woman raised an eyebrow, and then shamelessly looked her up and down without that smile leaving her face. “How about a drink?”_

_Sooyoung let out a laugh through her nose, but the woman’s gaze was unyielding and so resolute that Sooyoung found her amusement fading into a smirk._

_She figured she wouldn't get that painting if she didn't decide to play whatever game her new friend wanted to play._ _The woman was clearly attracted to her and Sooyoung wasn't about to skip out on taking advantage of it._

_“Tonight, then. There’s a club around here, two blocks away. It’s the only one on the street. There’ll be a ton of people there, so bring the painting,” Sooyoung murmured._

_Because if this woman was anything like her, Sooyoung knew what she liked. The buzz of thievery, the thrill of being in public surrounded by so many people, stolen piece tucked in a waistband, or in a bag, or in a tube._ _Quiet and careful in your movements, but utter mayhem and exhilaration in your thoughts._

_It was a thrill Sooyoung knew all too well. And something told her the woman inches from her enjoyed the exact same thing._

_“I’ll see you there,” Sooyoung said, “we want the same thing, you know that.”_

_The painting, maybe._ _Each other? Well, if Sooyoung must be honest with herself..._

_The woman smiled, doing nothing to hide the way her eyes flittered to Sooyoung’s lips. “You better give me the best goddamn night of my life.”_

/

_England_

Sooyoung winced when Jinsoul shoved her against the restroom door.

“I know you like it rough, Jinsoul, but I’d appreciate a little warning every once in a while,” Sooyoung quipped as Jinsoul drew her face in so close that Sooyoung could feel the soft tickle of Jinsoul’s breath on her lips.

The bustle of the London pub Jinsoul dragged her into was alive, albeit muted, beyond the door. Even so late at night, the drunken Englishmen didn't rest.

“Thanks to you, my pay was cut,” Jinsoul muttered through gritted teeth. Something about her seemed different. 

Sooyoung knew she was talking about the ceramics theft that had gone wrong for her weeks ago, involving a haphazardly broken window and an annoying security alarm.

“Did you spend the last several weeks agonizing over how I got in there before you? Hurt your massive ego?”

She flashed Jinsoul a smirk she couldn’t resist. Oh, how fun it was to be the one a step ahead for once.

“No. I agonized over how I could make you pay the next time I saw you.”

Sooyoung lowered her voice, tilting her head a bit. Every move of hers was deliberate. “You asked for it,” she replied, “you know I worked so hard for those golden coins in New York and yet…”

Because while their whole arrangement began as a game only for Jinsoul, it had evolved into an international cat and mouse for Sooyoung too, with its constant role-switching and seemingly never-ending chase. She wanted to be the Jerry to Jinsoul's Tom, for once. Sooyoung never let herself be played into Jinsoul’s hands.

It had become as fun for her as it was for Jinsoul, or maybe she only liked it so much because Jinsoul did. 

“Not enough. Now, if you want these ancient dishes on my back, you’ll have to work harder and earn them,” Jinsoul said, pressing herself right up against Sooyoung, temperature rising at their proximity. “Make it quick, though. Jungeun wants the bag by sunrise and whether she gets it or not depends on you.”

The contents of Jinsoul’s backpack rattled with her every move. 

(Song dynasty-era lacquerware from China, a whole stack of them, each dish depicting mundane scenes reminiscent of Kim Hongdo’s genre paintings. Sooyoung had to have them, of course.)

Sooyoung sighed. When would Jinsoul learn? Her attention was torn between the rattling and the woman in front of her.

“Careful. It’s carved lacquer,” she warned, “I see you haven’t changed whatsoever. I thought your pay got cut, you won't be able to afford food on your plate at this rate. Do you need me to teach you another lesson?”

Jinsoul smiled and Sooyoung doesn’t know if it was the late night inertia settling in, or maybe the drunken atmosphere, but the way the dim, flickering restroom lights illuminated the blonde’s face brought out all her best features – how her front teeth peeked behind her lips, the shimmer in her eyes darkening, and the exchange of current between them.

Jinsoul leaned closer. “What can I say…I just _can’t_ get enough of you.”

Their lips brushed with held breaths. Sooyoung felt electric.

Jinsoul was a good thief– no, a _great_ one, if the way she stole Sooyoung's whole attention and held it without even trying was any testament.

Glass bottles.

Sooyoung should’ve seen this coming. 

There were empty glass bottles inside the bag that Jinsoul dropped at her feet before leaving, not the Chinese lacquerware Sooyoung had been expecting. 

Jinsoul double-crossed her, again, but Sooyoung couldn't even find it in her to be angry. She was only embarrassed that she never noticed.

(The principle of an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, has become part of their routine, it seemed.)

Again and again, Sooyoung read over the note Jinsoul had slid into her back pocket before she slipped out of the bathroom with one last bruising kiss. 

Paper perfectly creased through the middle, neat and clear letters filling the space, a complete turnaround from the messy memo she was left with in New York: ‘ _I may know jack shit about art, but I do know that I'm the better thief. Maybe you can learn something from me. I can have my fun and still be two steps ahead.’_

Of course. How impulsive of Sooyoung to really think that _she_ was the one a step ahead of Jinsoul for once.

“Bitch…” Sooyoung murmured amusingly beneath her breath as she run a thumb across her lip, the one Jinsoul was just biting a few minutes prior.

Sooyoung really couldn't find it in her to feel what she was supposed to feel. Betrayal, humiliation, or annoyance - whatever it was, it was replaced only by a burning desire to see Jinsoul again.

/

_With the way the woman’s hands and eyes shamelessly wandered all over her body the entire night, it was only natural for things to lead to where they did, with Sooyoung getting to show off what she could do with her deft fingers._

_“So?” Sooyoung panted out, “did I give you the best goddamn night of your life or what?”_

_The sight past the window seemed a lot brighter with the sun reflecting off the blanket of snow on the Alps. Morning daylight seeped into their room._

_The woman was lying on the motel bed with heavy breaths, an arm over her eyes. She let_ _out a gruff snicker. “I'll be honest, the painting wasn’t yours ‘til you whispered ‘give it to me’ into my ear while you were knuckle deep.”_

_Sooyoung scoffed loudly as she got up from the bed to search for her discarded clothes. “Crude.”_

_“I play fair, so…it’s yours.”_

_Sooyoung couldn't help her delighted grin as she grabbed the tube. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she even said, echoing the woman’s words to her the first time they met._

_She received a tired chuckle in return. “You got a business card…?”_

_Sooyoung stopped just short of buttoning her pants and glanced over to the bed to find the woman gazing at her curiously._

_Sauntering over to the desk, Sooyoung quickly scribbled on the notepad and hands the ripped note to the woman._

_"Ha Sooyoung,” she read out loud with a laugh. “Lovely, but you know…these usually have people’s numbers on them too.”_

_Sooyoung raised an eyebrow. Her contemplation only lasted a moment before taking back the note and writing down a string of numbers. “Let me know if you're ever interested in negotiating again.”_

_“Oh, I'm sure I will be,” the woman smirked, staring intently at the piece of paper. “I look forward to this partnership.”_

_“If that’s what you’d like to call it.”_

_The woman collapsed back on the bed, a childish grin stretching her lips. “That painting better have been worth it, Sooyoung.”_

_The image of the handscroll hung on her wall filled her with as much excitement as the night they just spent together._

_“Oh, it will be,” Sooyoung answers with a toothy smile. “One more thing...”_

_“Hm?”_

_“Got a name to match your pretty face?”_

_The woman gave her a curt chuckle. “Jung Jinsoul."_

_That was a name she swore to never forget. Their eyes met and Sooyoung resisted the urge to just join her back on the bed._

_“See you around, Jinsoul. I hope this won’t be the last time we meet.”_

/

_Switzerland_

Duped and humiliated in the bathroom of a London bar, and yet Jinsoul wouldn't leave her thoughts.

Every now and then, Sooyoung found herself reminiscing the first time they met.

Nearly a year of chasing each other through Europe and North America, finding one another at galleries and leaving each other in hotel rooms. Nearly a year of exchanging anything from paintings and ceramics, to kisses and bruises. Nearly a year of fraternising with the enemy, as some might've called it. Sooyoung never saw her as a rival, though. 

Whenever she looked at those porcelain vases or the Yuan dynasty landscape painting, she could only think of one person.

Eventually, Sooyoung got to know her better via the brief pockets of intimacy they shared shortly after they slept together, moments in which they allowed themselves to open up a little bit and talk to each other before one disappeared again the next morning. It was the foil of candor amidst dangerous predictability that seemingly encapsulated their entire relationship. They communicated better with actions, but Sooyoung had grown fond of Jinsoul’s voice.

 _“I wouldn’t mind having eternal pillow talks with you,”_ Jinsoul told her once, wrapped up in her embrace, _“I think you’re the only person in the world I think that about.”_

Sooyoung believed her. 

It was through those tired, uninhibited moments they shared that Sooyoung got a glimpse of Jinsoul’s life. Perhaps it was why she fell in love a little bit more with every rendezvous.

(Though her cheeky, stubborn self would argue she loved Jinsoul the most when the head of blonde was between her legs, or when her whiny moans of Sooyoung’s name reached a crescendo.

But let’s face it; just seeing Jinsoul smile was enough for her.)

At some point, Sooyoung learned of who Jinsoul worked for and what they were looking for. Jungeun, Jinsoul’s handler slash object-of-her-affections, was a frequent topic of her late-night rants. Sooyoung listened to all of it, even if she’d rather not.

At some point, Sooyoung came to realise how wrapped up this Jungeun was in her priorities that didn't include Jinsoul, and the frustrations Jinsoul felt about it. Sooyoung noticed that beneath Jinsoul’s grievances were layers of loyalty and devotion for Jungeun, entirely unrequited.

At some point, they went international, unable to be contained in Europe. It was far too small for their ambitions. Sooyoung was willing to cross the Atlantic just to chase down Jinsoul and any piece of artwork that captured her heart.

Eventually, they had seen each other often enough that Sooyoung could draw her from memory. Jinsoul always told her she liked it rough, but Sooyoung knew she liked it best when she was handled like a fine piece of art.

(And that’s what Jinsoul really was beneath her ruggedness – one of the most beautiful works of art Sooyoung had ever laid her eyes on.)

They didn't keep in touch, despite having each other’s numbers. Jinsoul only ever texted her about her next job. Perhaps this was all still a game to her. Not that Sooyoung minded; all that mattered was that Jinsoul continued to tip her off on all her jobs. That those messages still came in, no matter when and where she was in the world. 

But Sooyoung started to wonder the real reason why Jinsoul kept doing it.

Truthfully, she had thought about calling her more times than she’d like to admit, but making that move felt far too much like uncharted territory. And so she settled for whatever they were, and they simply saw each other when they did. That was enough for her.

But eventually - or inevitably, perhaps (Sooyoung was a romantic at heart) - it reached a point where Sooyoung could not stop thinking about her. 

At some point, Jinsoul had her feeling something she hadn’t felt for another person since Jiwoo.

Having left a mark on every inch of her body at some point or another, Sooyoung felt like she knew Jinsoul inside out, but at the same time, there was still so much about her that Sooyoung had yet to learn.

/

_Spain_

Impatient lips pressed on Jinsoul’s jaw the second the lock on the door behind them clicked.

“Cool it with the hickeys, will you? They’re getting harder to hide from Jungeun.”

Sooyoung moved Jinsoul's hair over her shoulder and, pulling down her collar, was greeted by marks she left last time. They looked like watercolour on paper – Sooyoung the artist, Jinsoul the canvas. She couldn't help but smile at the sight.

“Jung Jinsoul, you drive me crazy, you know…”

She felt the vibrations of Jinsoul’s giggle as she buried her nose in the slope of her neck, leaving kisses there too. Her scent was dizzying.

“What, are you still embarrassed over what happened in London?” the blonde breathlessly teased, “can’t tell the sound of glass from lacquerware and you still call yourself an art history major?”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes playfully, pulling away to look at Jinsoul. “I think I was distracted by your lips. You’re a terribly, _terribly_ amazing kisser.”

She got a toothy, lopsided smile in return and Sooyoung swore her heart skipped a beat.

“I guess I’m your kryptonite as much as you are mine,” Jinsoul told her softly.

Sooyoung gave her a smirk, amused, but before she could give some attention to Jinsoul’s inviting lips, two hands pushed her back.

"Sooyoung." 

At the call of her name, she pulled away and found Jinsoul gazing at her with an unreadable look in her eyes. 

"What are you looking at?" Sooyoung asked curiously. 

“Before we do anything," Jinsoul bit her lip, "I wanted to ask you something."

Sooyoung quirked a brow.

“Tell me about the illustration,” Jinsoul said with a newfound shyness.

The artwork bringing them together on this fateful day: a framed page of some religious scene from an illuminated manuscript dating back to 10th century Spain, nabbed by Jinsoul in a small Spanish gallery during after hours.

That was as much as Sooyoung knew about it. Frankly, she was far more interested in spending time with the woman perpetually occupying her thoughts. The illustration was pretty, but Jinsoul was prettier.

Sooyoung briefly glanced at the case Jinsoul had put on the floor. “Um, can’t say I know much about medieval art. Slept through those classes.”

“That’s okay. Tell me about the lacquerware instead, then.”

“…Really? After that shit you pulled on me in London?”

Jinsoul gave her a childish pout. “I’m sorry.”

“That hurt, you know,” Sooyoung replied in jest.

“I never want to actually hurt you,” Jinsoul admitted, catching Sooyoung by surprise with the sudden sincerity in her voice. “I just have a job to do…you know that, right?”

Sooyoung cupped her jaw softly. “I know.” _What is up with you today...?_

At her touch, Jinsoul brightened up again. “I know nothing about art. But you can change that!” She prodded Sooyoung on with a purse of her lips, but Sooyoung could only laugh.

Grabbing Jinsoul’s hands, she pulled her away from the door. “Quit joking around and just come to bed with me already.”

“I’m serious!” 

“Are you?” Sooyoung narrowed her eyes. “Why…Jung Jinsoul giving a shit about art. This is new. You actually care?”

Jinsoul plopped herself on the edge of the bed as she bit down on her bottom lip. “I care that _you_ care. Your eyes light up when you talk about it, did you know? Don’t think I didn’t notice, I spend a lot of time staring at your gorgeous face.”

Sooyoung tentatively walked over to the bed but stopped just short of falling on it, opting to stand in front of Jinsoul with crossed arms. “…Is this your new kink or something?” 

In response, the blonde rolled her eyes playfully. “Believe it or not, I’m _not_ horny 24/7–“

“–I don’t believe that for a second–“

“I mean it! Keep my attention for fifteen minutes and the manuscript’s yours.”

A small smile crept onto Sooyoung’s face. Jinsoul was always so full of surprises. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing! Oh god, stop looking at me like that,” Jinsoul exclaimed defensively, “is it a crime that I find it hot when you talk about art?”

Sooyoung broke into a laugh. “See, you _are_ horny.“

“I’m joking. Well, half-joking." Jinsoul reached for her hands and pulled her closer, looking up at her with those doe eyes and a dangerously weakening pout. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. It’s interesting, you know? _You’re_ interesting.”

It was probably the blatant disbelief etched on Sooyoung’s features that had Jinsoul now trying to convince her that her intentions were honest, but Sooyoung refused to let up.

“You’re really not going to talk to me about art? _Come onnnn,_ ” she whined, “we can bang after if you want to so bad.”

The scoff Sooyoung let out teetered between amused and scandalised. “Oh my god.”

“Pretty please?” Jinsoul swung her arms like a petulant child. 

(Sooyoung would've hated to admit it, but the cuteness act worked on her.)

“I’m just trying to understand why you suddenly want to listen to me drone on about some ancient plates,” Sooyoung answered. “Don't get me wrong, I’d _love_ to, but can you blame me for being a little suspicious?”

Jinsoul sighed and switched her gaze to their intertwined hands, watching how her fingers laced through Sooyoung’s. “I know verbal communication isn’t really our strong suit, but…” she paused with a small shrug, “you always lend me a listening ear whenever I rant about my job, especially Jungeun...”

The bashfulness replacing her childish sulking was uncharacteristic. Jinsoul was showing a new side of herself, one that strayed away from the usual bravado that commanded her personality.

“…but I’m tired of always talking about her. I don’t want to anymore,” Jinsoul continued, “don’t you ever get sick of listening to me go on and on about my life?”

Jinsoul chuckled, but Sooyoung adamantly shook her head. “Never.”

How could she ever get tired of Jinsoul’s voice? There was a strange charm to her drawl, a calming sort of lilt that Sooyoung thought she could listen to for hours on end.

Jinsoul looked up at her, guileless in her curious gaze. “I never hear enough of your voice. I want to listen to _you_ talk. I want to see all that excitement on your face when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. It makes me...happy.”

Sooyoung returned her look, but Jinsoul’s eyes showed no sign of their usual mischief.

They were warm, instead, and expectant in their gentleness.

Sooyoung reached up to tuck some loose strays of blonde behind Jinsoul’s ear, letting her fingers linger there for a moment. It was an uncommon sort of intimacy they were sharing, and Sooyoung found herself suddenly overcome with a certain fondness for the woman in front of her.

Jinsoul was the first to break the contemplative silence between them.

“So? Tell me. I admire what you do, you know? You’re like a really hot and really smart Robin Hood. Tell me about that,” she said, the corner of her lip quirking into a small smile.

“You admire me?” 

“Of course I do. I mean, I know a lot of us seem so,” Jinsoul paused to take in a big inhale, seemingly searching for the right word to say, “ _shallow_. But not you. And I know I may seem like that to you too, but,” a shrug to punctuate her thoughts, “I don’t want to be. I don't feel like I am when I'm around you, and I like it. I like myself with you.”

Something in the look on Jinsoul’s face was penetrating, breaking through the usual sides of her that Sooyoung was used to. A focused expression that made everything she said sound more earnest.

“So let’s talk about art. Where are the plates from…how are they made…what were they used for? Stuff like that. When I looked at them, I realised I never really look at what I’m taking. All that beauty right under my nose, huh?”

Sooyoung acquiesced, settling down beside Jinsoul, their hands still holding each other’s.

“Fine, I’ll tell you about them. But if you fall asleep on me, you’ll break my heart.”

Jinsoul grinned. “You know I’d hate to do that to you, love.”

Sooyoung nudged her teasingly on the shoulder. “Okay, thief. The plates date back to twelfth century China. Carving lacquer is a very time-consuming process, but it’s special, and royals often gave it as gifts…”

Having heart-to-heart talks with Jinsoul wasn't really a new experience, but sitting on the edge of the bed with both of them fully clothed certainly was. Sooyoung liked it, though.

Jinsoul hinged on her every word, the attentive look in her eyes reminding Sooyoung of how Jiwoo would use to look at her whenever she spoke.

Sooyoung felt her heart racing, but she couldn't tell if it was because she was talking about something she was passionate about, or if it was the way Jinsoul was looking at her as if she was in love.

They were cocooned in bed with Jinsoul’s head on her chest and truthfully, there was a large part of Sooyoung that was surprised neither of them have stripped out of their clothes and made out yet.

The illuminated manuscript still sat by the door of their hotel room, forgotten and drowned out by the intimate candidness they were sharing. 

“You’re an asshole sometimes, but that’s because I’m an asshole too, so I deserve it,” Jinsoul went on, “plus, you’re a talented thief. Ugh, I can’t make up my mind sometimes. Like I hate you for being so good. But I also love you?"

Sooyoung tried not to read too much into those last words.

“We’re a great team, don’t you think?” Sooyoung mused out loud instead.

(Because beyond the thievery, they complimented each other in such unpredictable ways. Jinsoul lived dreamily and Sooyoung tethered her to earth; Sooyoung had poise where Jinsoul lacked it, but she made up for it with such incredible confidence that Sooyoung fed off of. Amidst never-ending banter that always felt more loving than hurtful, they managed to forge something that began antagonistic, but turned into something so much more.)

“In bed? Oh, absolutely,” came Jinsoul’s answer.

Sooyoung chuckled. “Remember that Baroque painting from the French art fair? If I never distracted those old guys, you never would’ve gotten away with the painting.”

“Wow, you’re never going to let me live that one down, huh?”

“Hey, I arguably earned it and I still let you walk away with it. You owe me,” Sooyoung said with a grin. “Would you ever consider stealing with me?”

For a moment, Jinsoul fell silent before lifting her head up to look at Sooyoung with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

Sooyoung glanced at her briefly, her finger absentmindedly twirling blonde hair.

She imagined taking Jinsoul to her Swiss loft and showing her the collection; she imagined Jinsoul looking at them with awe, being overtaken by the same ecstatic feeling that Sooyoung gave her when she had fingers in her and lips to her neck.

Sooyoung dreamt of it. She dreamt of the two of them entangled in her bed, surrounded by her most prized possessions. She dreamt of being enclosed by only what she loved and loved her back just as much.

It had the butterflies in her stomach dancing.

“Is your pay good?” Jinsoul asked as a devilish smirk painted her pretty lips. “'Cuz I might consider it.”

It wasn't Jinsoul's intention, but her reply had the daydream fading a little bit in Sooyoung's mind, the same way colours did when scrolls with layers of paint and silk and paper were exposed too much to light. She sighed. Sooyoung had come close to telling Jinsoul about the real intentions behind her thieving, but perhaps that thought should be shelved for another time.

“You know it is.”

Jinsoul snickered. “I doubt it.”

“Then you don’t really know anything about this business.”

She felt Jinsoul let out a sigh. “Jungeun pays me well. That’s all that matters.”

Sooyoung disentangled herself from Jinsoul and turned to stare up at the ceiling.

“I know you’re not doing it for the money,” Sooyoung told her bluntly.

“Of course I am.”

“You’re not. If you really cared about the money, you’d steal freelance because the payout is higher. Instead, your compensation is split between several people. And we all know Kim Jungeun gets the brunt of the earnings,” Sooyoung explained quietly, “so I know you’re not doing it for the money.”

Jinsoul shifted in the space beside her, the bed creaking with her movements. “…So what if I’m not,” she timidly admitted, “you’re not either, Sooyoung.”

“...I know. We’re both doing this for the same reason.”

“But I’m not hellbent on reclaiming art spoils like you are?” Jinsoul mused and the slight amusement in her tone was a poor attempt at brightening the atmosphere.

“No,” Sooyoung murmured, “you’re not.”

She felt her daydream wither some more, the image of Jinsoul being surrounded by her collection threatening to become more and more of a fantasy.

But Sooyoung refused to let the colours fade. 

“I meant we’re both doing it out of love." 

Her words seemed to have rendered Jinsoul silent and when Sooyoung glanced over, she found the woman staring up at the ceiling, boring holes into it as if she could see through them.

It was true. Sooyoung always did it out of love. Ever since the first artwork she took, it was out of pure, unadulterated love. Love in its purest form, fueled only by the immediate jolt she felt in her chest.

Maybe, throughout the years, her motivations had blurred; sometimes, love disguised itself as only infatuation – a youthful, temporary type of love – or maybe as obsession, in which love reared its ugliest head, blinding Sooyoung in selfish bliss. It was during this phase when she lost Jiwoo.

But Sooyoung had a better understanding of everything now, far more grounded than she used to be. Art, for all its worth, gave meaning to her life, but that wasn't all what her life had to be. What she could feel for a person struck her heart, but it was a different blow than what objects and paintings gave her, one just as fulfilling and twice as compelling when it was returned.

Sooyoung felt it with Jiwoo. She just didn’t know it then. And Sooyoung realised she’d like to feel it with Jinsoul.

Jinsoul, too, had always done it out of love. However, Sooyoung realised her pursuit was much more selfless. She stole for Jungeun; the type of love that fueled her was self-sacrificing, borne out of intense loyalty and devotion to another person.

Perhaps that was Jinsoul’s most admirable quality. Sooyoung wondered if it was the same reason Jiwoo stuck with her, even long after she disapproved of Sooyoung’s ways. It was that type of love that deserved to be returned, one Jungeun wouldn’t give to Jinsoul and one Sooyoung never gave back to Jiwoo.

But she found the chance to do that with Jinsoul. Sooyoung was willing to give it to her, if only Jinsoul would realise and let her. 

If only she would realise that the happiness they shared didn't have to be short-lived and confined to the walls of European hotel rooms.

“Love,” Jinsoul murmured, “is a _massive_ pain in the ass.”

And then Jinsoul curled up beside her. An arm wrapped protectively around her waist, a leg entangled with one of hers, and a head burrowed into the crook of her neck, soft kisses pressed on her collarbone.

Sooyoung’s heart thrashed against her rib cage.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be,” she murmured, running her fingers through Jinsoul’s hair.

Jinsoul waited a heartbeat to reply. “What are you getting at, Sooyoung?”

Sooyoung’s next words caught in her throat when she felt Jinsoul’s warmth against her, but something struck her chest, urging her to let it out. It was something she had wanted to ask for so long, but repressed in fear of overstepping her boundary. 

But if not now, then Sooyoung didn't know when else she’d gather the courage to do it.

She glanced at the woman who injected colour back into her life a year ago, wondering if Jinsoul had any idea of the effect she had on her. The daydream she intended to shelf was blooming in her mind again. Sooyoung brought a hand to her cheek, touching her as if she was fragile glassware. Sometimes, Jinsoul reminded her much of a liuli dragon; fierce in its warm colours, but a certain delicateness in its intricacies.

“Ever woken up to the Alps outside your window?”

Jinsoul hummed. “Once, with you, a year ago. Remember? Charmed that pretty painting out of my waistband.”

“Want to see it again?”

“A second time?”

“And a third, fourth, fifth…try everyday.”

“…Will you leave with the painting like the first time?”

Sooyoung shook her head. “I won’t go anywhere. You don't need to either. There doesn’t even need to be a piece of artwork waiting by the bed at all.”

“No art?”

“No art, no reason to leave each other.”

She felt Jinsoul sigh, the soft kind one would let out in respite. “That sounds nice...”

“Yeah. It does,” Sooyoung said, “so what do you think? Do you want to come with me to Switzerland? I’m leaving in the morning.”

Jinsoul took in a breath and Sooyoung felt her smiling against her skin. “I’ll go anywhere with you, love.”

“I mean it, Jinsoul.”

Jinsoul immediately registered the sincerity in Sooyoung’s words because her voice lowered to a curious murmur. “…What’s in Switzerland?” she asked.

More vivid than ever, Sooyoung’s daydream swirled back into her thoughts. She knew it was idealistic, but that was okay. Jinsoul didn't have to be in awe of her collection at first sight. Sooyoung just wanted to lift the curtains and let her in, no matter the risk.

(After all, her collection was a part of her and that's something she must show Jinsoul if Sooyoung wanted her to be a part of her life too.)

“I have something to show you there, something really important to me.”

This invitation, more than anything, was a clearer confession of love than any words Sooyoung could put together.

“…You trust me enough?”

“Yes.”

“After all I’ve done to you?”

A suppressed chuckle escaped through Sooyoung’s nose. “What have you done to me? You were just doing your job. We’ve always had a mutual understanding of that.”

Risks were all part of the thrill. Jinsoul should know that better than anyone. And whenever a beautiful artwork stirred Sooyoung’s heart, she always went for it, her love far outweighing her fears about being caught, or breaking the law, or whatever threatened to chain her.

If thieving taught her anything, it was to focus on the trace of silver lining lying beyond the gamble and to go for it. 

She lost Jiwoo before she could explain herself, but now Sooyoung was armed with a better understanding of why she did what she did, and how to better express that to someone who may not see beauty the way she saw it through her eyes. 

Jinsoul’s hesitation was evident in her silence and especially in her slow breaths.

“Don’t break my heart now, love,” Sooyoung lightly teased.

Jinsoul understood her intentions. She could tell. 

“I never want to, you know that…” Jinsoul told her with a shy voice, “but tomorrow morning…?”

Sooyoung hummed.

“Jungeun’s expecting my return…”

A hand moved to Sooyoung’s chest and Sooyoung knew Jinsoul felt her heart pounding beneath her palm. It beat a steady and confident rhythm, louder now with Jinsoul’s touch. She sighed, burying her nose into Jinsoul’s hair.

Sooyoung was determined not to let someone she loved slip through her fingers.

Not again.

This was perhaps her greatest heist yet.

“Just follow me to Switzerland, Jinsoul.”

Something in the way Jinsoul held her had Sooyoung thinking that this was the right thing to do, that Jinsoul felt at home with her. 

A beat passed, then another, and it felt like an eternity, but finally, she got an answer. 

Sooyoung extended a hand.

“Okay,” Jinsoul told her softly. “Let’s go.”

And Jinsoul took it. 

**Author's Note:**

> writing this gave me war flashbacks to the hellish art history course I took in first year, but at least I found a use for the $200 textbook I was never able to re-sell. I hope this was a worthy contribution to yvesoul nation 
> 
> hmu!!! [@sansrivalist](https://twitter.com/sansrivalist)  
> comment, talk to me on twt/cc, whichever, just let me know what you think :)


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